Hail Warning

by Brett Arquette

  Kara stood back up on her tiptoes and whispered into Kornev’s ear, “When he pulls that trigger, we need to get the hell out of here.”

  Kornev turned his head and whispered, “I’m with you on that. If that missile misses the target, I don’t want to be around for the aftermath.”

  Very slowly, Kara and Kornev began to take baby steps backwards, placing as much distance as possible between the jihadi and themselves.

  Someone yelled, “What’s going on?”

  Kara heard the voice coming from the surf in front of them. Baako was about waist deep as he began walking out of the water. Apparently, he had completed his swim.

  Afua acted as if he didn’t hear his brother. Instead of answering him, Afua pressed the weapon’s trigger.

  In the blink of an eye, the missile ignited. In a great magnificent whoosh, the projectile left the launch tube and rocketed skyward.

  “Run. Go, go!” Kara urged Kornev. They began running toward the compound.

  Afua let the launcher fall from his shoulder to land on the soft sand at his feet. He watched the missile climb and begin making a slight turn to the left, arcing toward the slow-moving cargo plane. And then, just as the two objects were set to collide, the missile streaked past the plane.

  “What the hell just happened?” Afua asked Kornev. The Nigerian never took his eyes off the missile.

  Now, well past its intended target, the missile began to turn. A year ago, when Afua had been trained on the weapon, Kornev had told him if the missile were to miss its target, it would attempt to turn to make a second pass, tracking the same heat signature in the sky.

  Afua watched intently as the missile made a sharp crisp turn and began to head back toward the plane.

  At any moment, Afua fully expected the missile to hit the plane. He watched with anticipation, holding his breath, and waited for the midair explosion. But once again, the missile missed its target.

  “What is happening?!” Afua yelled, turning to Kornev for an explanation. The Nigerian was both surprised and perplexed that Kornev was no longer standing there. There was no Kornev. There was no Tonya. He looked up toward the house and saw Kornev and his girlfriend running up the path.

  The soldiers next to Afua saw the same thing. They quickly put two and two together, and Afua’s men began running in opposite directions. Afua didn’t make any attempt to run. He hadn’t run from anything his entire life, and he wasn’t about to start. Instead, the jihadi turned back toward the missile. He could no longer see the profile of the weapon. All he could see was a dot that represented the nose of the warhead. The Verba was streaking directly toward him.

  Afua held up a clenched fist and let out a guttural scream of defiance. Traveling at Mach 3, the warhead hit Diambu dead center in the middle of his forehead. A concussive explosion shook the trees and bushes. As the shockwave danced across the sand, traveling out and up, the windowpanes and sliding glass doors of the compound above were blown out of their heavy frames. The guards that had begun running down the beach didn’t stand a chance. They survived the initial explosion, but the ensuing shrapnel shredded their bodies like they were made from mere cheesecloth. They went down face-first into the deep sand.

  The shockwave of the blast skipped across Badagry Creek and threw Baako back into the waves. Flames and flying debris fanned out in all directions, burning and shredding everything in its wake. A thick cloud of smoke, sand and vaporized vegetation formed over the crater where the missile struck.

  Twenty seconds later, Baako poked his head out of the water and looked around. Once he realized the fireworks were over, he slowly walked out of the surf and onto the beach. Where his brother had been standing now existed an immense blackened crater slowly filling with saltwater. Afua, his twin brother, was simply gone. He had been cremated within a cloud of white silica that was softly falling from the sky like gritty snow. Although his twin was dead, he knew Afua’s past would have eventually caught up with him. He was just grateful he had sent the entire family off to Lagos to pick up supplies to have some fun in the sun when he had heard about the test firing. Relief swept over him as much as did the sorrow and overwhelming anger. Baako put his face up toward the sky, closed his eyes and said a prayer for his brother. He had always known that someday Afua would pay the ultimate price for his sins on this earth, but it was up to God to take his life. Not up to the arms dealer or his—his—

  Baako lowered his face and opened his eyes. Where was the Russian and his girlfriend? Baako scanned the beach. To his right, he saw one of his brother’s guards in a heap on the ground. And, then to his left, he saw another guard had also met his demise. Baako looked up toward the house and saw Kornev and Tonya climbing the deck’s stairs, retreating into the house.

  Without giving it a second thought, Baako began running after them.

  ROND POINT PORT—ABOARD THE HAIL PROTON

  F rom the video feed streamed from Seagulls’ cameras, the crew on the Hail Proton witnessed the entire event. Everyone in the room was stunned into silence. It was one thing to know the missile guidance system had been altered so it would return to the coordinates from where it was fired. It was another thing to watch real time and on high-definition monitors. The results were sobering. Any of the young crew on the ship who thought that this was some sort of unconventional video game saw firsthand the lethal results.

  The crew watched as a sole survivor emerged from the water. The black man slowly walked up and looked at the crater left from the missile strike. He then lifted his face skyward and closed his eyes.

  “Where are Kara and Kornev?” Hail asked.

  A cloud of sand and smoke hung in the air as if it was its own ecosystem. There was almost no wind and there was nothing to dissipate the haze.

  “From Seagulls’ position over the water, I can’t see anything past the explosion,” Wilson said.

  Hail told Starling, “Take a look around with Turtles, and see if you can spot Kara and Kornev.”

  “Roger that,” the girl said, and she panned, using Turtles’ head, the beach from the far right to the far left. When the camera had fully examined the area toward the compound, Starling said with excitement, “Got ‘em. They are climbing up the deck stairs.” The pilot zoomed the drone’s camera providing the crew a clear shot of Kara and Kornev running up the stairs.

  “Diambu’s double is gone,” Wilson announced.

  “What do you mean he’s gone?” Hail asked.

  Wilson responded, “I mean I saw him standing on the beach a moment ago, and now I don’t see him.”

  Hail asked Starling, “Can you get a fix on him?”

  Starling twisted her joystick to her right in a clockwise motion, and the head of Turtles began to pan back toward the beach. By the time the slow-moving drone’s head had made the transition, the man they knew as Diambu’s double was already within twenty yards of Turtles’ position.

  The entire crew saw the image of the man running toward them—toward their turtle drone next to the path.

  A flurry of objectives, intentions, and options passed through Hail’s mind. Each of the varying issues competed for his immediate attention. Hail didn’t know who this person was, so he didn’t know if he was dangerous. He didn’t know why the man was running toward the house. But when it came down to it, Kara’s life, as well as the success of the mission, were of more importance than this man, regardless of who he was. At the very least, this unknown double was neck deep into Diambu’s operation.

  “Arm Turtles,” Hail called out.

  “No time,” Starling said. Just as she pressed the icon to arm the C-4 explosive, the man had already run past their deadly turtle and was ten yards up the trail.

  “Hit it!” Hail yelled.

  Starling pressed the DESTRUCT icon and the image being displayed from Turtles flashed white and then went black.

  By this time, Wilson had gained altitude with Seagulls and had flown through the smoky cloud in time to see the blast down below. But the destr
uction didn’t stop there. The ground-shaking explosion caused one of the nearby land mines to detonate which caused the next land mine to detonate. In a cascading symphony of ruin, one land mine after another began to explode. It sounded like a demonic drum corps. Through Seagulls’ audio, Hail thought it sounded like someone had lit off a wad of giant firecrackers. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. The explosions continued. Branches, sand, shells and rock were blasted into the air surrounding the perimeter of the compound.

  “Damn,” Hail yelled.

  “You got that right,” Captain Nichols agreed. “Renner told you they had dug their mines too close together.”

  “Renner is a smart guy,” Hail said.

  Seagulls’ head swung around and was now pointing at the compound below. Kara and Kornev could no longer be seen, and Hail guessed that they had made it inside the house. But lower in the frame, they saw Diambu’s double still alive and running, almost reaching the base of the stairs.

  Hail told Nichols, “We need to get Foo Fighters and Foreigner in the air.”

  Nichols gave the order.

  SNAKE ISLAND, NIGERIA

  W hen Baako reached the bottom of the stairs, he encountered a very confused guard who was crouched down, swinging his weapon side-to-side, looking for potential targets.

  “Why did you let them go up?” Baako yelled at the man.

  “They told me that there was an attack on the beach, and they wanted to go into the house for safety.”

  Baako yelled at the man, “I want you to get as many men as you can into Jeeps and seal off all roads that lead out of the compound. No one gets on or off this island, especially that man and woman.”

  The guard grunted an acknowledgement. He then removed a radio from his belt and began to speak into the microphone. Baako sidestepped the guard and began running up the stairs.

  *-*-*

  Kara and Kornev reached the top of the stairs. Kara was in the lead with Kornev closely on her tail, huffing and puffing like he was going to pass out. Kornev’s recent wounds were taking a toll on him, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. It had been a long time since he had run an all-out sprint, and the deep sand and stairs had his leg muscles shaking and feeling like rubber.

  Kara made a beeline for the kitchen for the keys that were hanging on the pegboard. The day before she had studied the keys, and she already knew which ones she wanted. Four of the fobs had little plastic labels on them that read Suburban-1, Suburban-2, Suburban-3, Suburban-4. She grabbed all the Suburban keys, shoving them in her shorts pocket. She then wrenched the entire pegboard off the wall, opened a lower kitchen cabinet, and tossed the pegboard with its remaining keys through the opening.

  “We need to get to the garage,” she told Kornev.

  Kornev was in no position to argue. He understood their lives depended on getting the hell out of there.

  They ran over to the elevator and Kornev pressed the button.

  The wait for the elevator was excruciating. She kept watching the openings where the sliding glass doors had once been, expecting at any time to see Baako run inside. Most likely he either was accompanied by a gun-toting guard or he had his weapon at the ready. She was certain Baako would be plenty pissed the missile had vaporized his brother. It didn’t take a college degree to understand that she and Kornev had something to do with the misfiring of the weapon. Compounding their guilt was the fact that they had run from the scene before the missile had fired.

  The elevator arrived and the doors opened. Kara withdrew the keys to the vehicles from her pocket and separated them, so they would be ready. As the elevator doors began to close, she got her first glimpse of Baako. This time his face was not adorned by his usual smile like in the past. Instead, he looked more like Afua with the same unattached look of danger.

  Baako saw Kornev and Kara framed inside the elevator. He made a break for the open elevator, leaping over the couch, but the doors closed just as he reached them.

  Baako cursed as he repeatedly pressed the elevator button. He ran into the kitchen and headed straight for the pegboard. He knew it held the key to open the door that led down the stairs to the garage. But to Baako’s frustration, the pegboard was gone, which meant that the keys were also gone. Not knowing what to do, Baako began searching for the keys in a frenzy. First, he checked the trash can, followed by opening the dozens of top-level kitchen cabinets. Unsuccessful, he urgently opened the lower cabinets. Baako discovered the pegboard of keys in the cabinet that held the pots and pans. He pulled out the board, distraught to see that none of the hooks held any keys. They had fallen off inside the cabinet.

  Like a madman, he began frantically pulling out pots and pans, looking in each one for the key he needed. Several minutes later, and after more cussing, Baako found the little Schlage key that opened the steel fire door leading to the garage stairway. Baako went into the pantry to retrieve his Sig Sauer 1911 Ultra .45 caliber pistol hanging on a hook above the doorjamb. He didn’t have to check if the gun was loaded. It was always loaded as were the dozens of other guns hidden around the home. They were well out of the children’s reach.

  Leaving the kitchen, Baako ran across the living room to a door next to the elevator. After unlocking the door, he began running down the stairs toward the garage.

  *-*-*

  Once they reached the garage, Kara yelled to Kornev, “Find something to block the elevator door so it remains open.” She left the Russian with his foot propped in the elevator door and ran toward a line of black Suburban SUVs.

  None of the SUVs were numbered in any fashion. To find the Suburban closest to her, she began a process of elimination. Nothing happened when she hit the door button on the first key fob. The second unlocked a vehicle down the line. She was relieved when the third fob unlocked the door of the Suburban in front of her. Kara opened the driver door and she jumped in behind the wheel. The new vehicle had a proximity ignition. She put her foot on the brake and pushed the ignition button. The SUV’s huge engine growled to life, and she racked the gear shifter into reverse while hitting the gas. Inside the garage, the screech of the tires sounded like someone was being tortured. She slammed the car into drive and began driving toward the exit. Up ahead, she saw Kornev still holding his foot in front of the elevator door. Kara lowered the window and pressed the unlock button. She screeched to a stop next to Kornev and yelled, “Get in!”

  Kornev grabbed the passenger door handle behind Kara and pulled it open. Instead of sitting in the front, Kornev dove into the backseat of the SUV.

  “I told you to find something to hold the doors open,” Kara yelled at him.

  “I couldn’t find anything,” Kornev told her, his head popping up from behind Kara.

  Kara stepped on the gas, and Kornev positioned himself into an upright position in the backseat.

  Ahead was the closed garage door. Kara began pushing all the extraneous buttons on the panel above the windshield. An overhead light snapped on, and the passenger reading light came on. But the garage door remained closed.

  “If it doesn’t open, I will have to ram it,” Kara told Kornev.

  “No way,” Kornev told her. “It’s a hurricane door. It won’t fail.”

  Kornev reached over the front seat and pressed one of three buttons that protruded from under the rear-view mirror. The garage door immediately began to rise.

  Kara looked at the button Kornev had pressed, making a mental note of the location of the button used to open the garage door. It would be useful information for the next time she was in a Suburban with a Russian arms dealer, while being chased by the twin brother of a terrorist on an isolated island inside a massive garage.

  Her eyes shifted from the button to her rear-view mirror.

  She saw a white door open and saw Baako enter the garage. He looked toward the sound of the SUV and loud garage door. He raised the Sig and pointed it at the fleeing vehicle.

  “Get down.” Kara warned Kornev before Baako pulled the trigger. The back windshield of the SUV shatt
ered, and Kornev’s left earlobe was clipped free, flew forward, and stuck to the inside of the front windshield. The bullet had wedged itself into the thick padded dashboard of the vehicle. Kornev grabbed the side of his head and cupped his ear with his left hand. He grimaced in pain and then checked his hand. He was bleeding, but he was grateful his head hadn’t been positioned two inches further to the left. He would have still been bleeding, but he wouldn’t have been alive to know it.

  Kara cranked the wheel hard to the right. She heard two more gunshots as she blasted onto the driveway. She turned the Suburban sharply to the left, and the SUV danced for an instant on two wheels before it succumbed to gravity. Kara straightened out the wheel and pointed the car toward the road leading to the runway.

  The sudden turn caught Kornev by surprise. Still pinching closed the bottom of his ear with one hand, he flailed out with his other arm to stop his fall, but it hadn’t helped. He ended up on the floorboard in the backseat - facedown and wedged between the seats.

  “You better put on your seat belt,” Kara yelled back at him. “And what the hell is this glob on the windshield? What body part are you missing?”

  Having to use both of his arms to extricate himself from the floor, Kornev sat back up and told Kara, “It’s a piece of my ear.”

  Up ahead, Kara saw a fork in the road and said, “That’s got to hurt. Should we go right or left?” she asked. “I can’t remember.”

  Kornev looked confused for a moment and told her, “Right, I think. But, where are you trying to go?”

  “For a start, I want to get the hell off this island,” Kara shot back. “Our best bet is the airfield. Hail might be able to help us if his drones have some open ground to work with.”

  In her rear-view mirror, Kara saw a pair of white Land Rovers turn onto the road behind her. She pressed harder on the accelerator, yet cautiously, understanding if the big SUV fishtailed, there was little she could do to recover. The Land Rovers behind them were smaller, faster, and could corner better. Then she saw something else in her rear-view mirror that she disliked even more than the Land Rovers. Each Land Rover had a machine gun mounted to their roll bars. A black soldier appeared from behind the gun in the lead vehicle. He reached out and unhooked the gun from its latch that secured it to a fixed position. Kara watched as he pointed the gun at her Suburban and prepared to fire the weapon.